


to dwell on dreams

by hopeless_hope



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Depression, Father-Son Relationship, Grief, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Mourning, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Gets a Hug, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Precious Peter Parker, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Whump, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:42:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22221247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopeless_hope/pseuds/hopeless_hope
Summary: Peter looks at the glasses case resting in the box. He thinks about Ben’s face and his voice and how he never wants to forget them. He looks at Tony with pleading eyes, already knowing where this is heading, but Tony continues anyway.“These are nothing more than dreams, Peter. I’ve made myself go half-mad using these, and I don’t want to see the same thing happen to you,” Tony tells him.Peter swallows thickly, a tsunami rising in his chest, and he lets out a shuddering breath, shaking with the effort of keeping it together. “It won’t,” he promises desperately.orPeter finds the BARF technology and uses it to relive and redo his last conversation with Uncle Ben. The only problem is, he can't stop going back. Luckily, he's got Tony to tether him.
Relationships: Ben Parker & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 25
Kudos: 231
Collections: Irondad Fic Exchange 2019





	to dwell on dreams

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JolinarJackson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JolinarJackson/gifts).



> I wrote this fic for the irondad fic exchange! I am so sorry that I posted this like 20 minutes late, and I'm so sorry if you thought I just didn't write you anything. I just could not figure out how to end this fic. Anyway, I went with your prompt that was simply "Uncle Ben" and I hope this suffices. :)
> 
> Also, this takes place in that sweet spot between Homecoming and IW.
> 
> And big thanks to @whumphoarder for helping me come up with the idea for this fic. <3

Peter’s practically vibrating with excitement as he and Happy pull up to Stark Tower. Which, that’s nothing entirely new, since he’s always excited to be there. But this time, he’s staying with Tony for the entire week of spring break, which  _ is  _ new. A whole week of just sleeping in and messing around in the lab, numbers and designs and theories flying from their lips.

A whole week of pure  _ science. _

It’s already dark outside when he actually arrives. He’d wanted to see May, who’s flying to the other side of the country for training with her job, off to the airport before he left for Tony’s. There’s a small part of him that’s anxious at the thought of being separated from her for that long, but he’s happy to at least have something to take his mind off of it during the day.

Happy’s barely had time to park the car before Peter is unbuckling his seatbelt and slinging his large duffle bag over his shoulder.

“Jesus, kid, don’t look in such a hurry to get away from me,” Happy says wryly, and Peter gives him a sheepish smile.

“Sorry, Happy! I’m just, well… happy,” Peter says with a snicker, and Happy rolls his eyes.

“Very creative. Never heard that one before,” Happy says sarcastically. “I change my mind. Away with you.”

“You don’t have to ask me twice,” Peter grins, hopping out of the car and practically skipping towards the elevator.

No matter how many weekends and days after school he’s spent here, there’s this part of Peter that never falls out of disbelief that he’s staying in  _ Tony Stark’s tower.  _ Absolutely unreal.

“Good evening,” FRIDAY greets as the elevator doors open and Peter steps in. “Boss would like me to inform you that he is ‘trapped in the hellscape that is corporate business meetings’ and he should be back at around eight o’clock tonight.’”

Peter lets out a laugh at that, figuring Pepper must have finally dragged Tony into that meeting he’s been putting off for the last week or so.

“That’s okay,” Peter responds. “I can just chill.”

“He would also like me to tell you that the lab doors will unlock for you and you can wait there, as long as you think you can manage to not blow yourself up in the next hour,” FRIDAY informs him, and Peter brightens.

“Oh, cool, let’s go straight there, then,” Peter says eagerly.

“Would you like to stop by your room so that you can drop off your stuff first?” FRIDAY prompts.

Peter looks down at his bag, which he’d already forgotten about and shrugs. “Nah, I’ll just unpack once I go up for the night.” FRIDAY doesn’t respond in what Peter can only assume is the computer equivalent of an exasperated silence.

Just has FRIDAY said, the doors to the lab open immediately for him and the lights come on, the lab practically coming to life. Peter hears an excited whir and quickly drops his bag onto the old couch in the corner of the room before turning around with a smile.

“DUM-E!” Peter greets the enthusiastic robot, who clumsily rolls to a stop right in front of him. “It’s good to see you, buddy. Made any horrible concoctions in the last few days since I’ve seen you?”

The bot opens and closes its arms in confirmation before turning to point to the counter, where a cup is sitting haphazardly on the counter, barely an inch from falling off. Peter peers into the cup, staring cautiously at the thick, murky liquid inside. He makes the mistake of inhaling, and just barely keeps himself from cringing at the acrid smell.

“Wow, buddy!” Peter exclaims, aware that DUM-E’s camera is fixed on him proudly. The robot wiggles from side to side as if doing a happy dance, and Peter smiles fondly. He picks up an old rag and a stray rubber band off the workbench and stretches the cloth over the top of the cup, securing it with a band. “I’m just putting a makeshift lid on it to keep it safe until Mr. Stark gets back,” Peter explains.

He carries the container to a shelf in the far back of the room, making a mental note to dispose of the hazardous mixtures later, when DUM-E’s occupied with helping Tony or something.

Peter tucks the cup in between a cardboard box and the side of the shelf, satisfied that DUM-E won’t be able to grab it again and add anymore potentially damaging substances to it and cause an explosion.

He’s just about to turn back when Tony’s messy scrawl on the side of the cardboard box catches his eye. The word “BARF” is written in all caps, and Peter breathes out a small laugh as he reaches out to pull the box off the shelf, curiosity getting the better of him.

When he looks inside, Peter’s confused to see nothing but a big glasses case and a strange-looking gadget on a stand. Unable to help himself, Peter picks up the case and opens it to reveal a pair of glasses with some sort of attachment on the side.

“‘Barf?’” Peter reads aloud. “What does that mean?”

“Binarily Augmented Retro-Framing,” FRIDAY supplies helplessly.

Peter’s face lights up at that. “Wait, I read about these! Mr. Stark used these as a therapeutic device, didn’t he? It, like, hijacks the hippocampus or something,” Peter says in awe, carefully picking up the frames.

“Peter, while Mr. Stark has not expressly forbid you from using these, I must caution you against it. It may have negative effects if not used correctly,” FRIDAY warns.

He hesitates for a second, but then he looks down at the frames and shrugs, knowing that Tony usually keeps stuff Peter’s not allowed to get into in a separate closet.

“It’ll be fine, FRI,” he assures the AI before slipping the glasses onto his face and pressing the button on.

For a moment, nothing happens, and Peter is just about to dismiss them as broken when the cylindrical piece on the stand in the box flickers to life, lighting up the room all around him.

“Whoa,” Peter murmurs. “What do I do now?”

“Typically, the user would think back to a certain moment in their life they’d like to see again or wish they’d changed. In Tony’s case, he went back to the last time he saw his parents and played out the events differently,” FRIDAY explains.

Before Peter could even think about her words, Uncle Ben flashed through his head, and suddenly the projection around him flooded with color, the room around him fading out. He could swear he only blinked for a second, but when he opens his eyes, his dead uncle is standing in front of him. Peter sucks in a sharp breath, all rational thought fleeing him. 

Ben looks exactly how he remembers. He’s wearing faded blue jeans and a brown jacket zipped up over a plaid shirt, and the sight is so achingly familiar that it nearly brings Peter to his knees.

“Ben?” Peter asks, voice small.

“Hey, kiddo. Do you have a moment?” Ben asks him, voice warm and eyes concerned. Peter swallows thickly and nods, the words painfully familiar. But then he realizes that Ben’s not even talking to  _ him,  _ but to a younger version of him.

_ This is like deja vu. It’s creepy,  _ a part of him thinks, but the part of him that’s never stopped aching to see Ben, to have one last interaction with him, pushes the thought aside.

It’s only as Ben goes to sit on the couch that Peter sees exactly where they are. They’re in Ben and May’s apartment, and Peter’s breath catches as he takes in the surroundings. He sees the painting on the wall of a cow that Ben, for some reason, loved and May couldn’t stand.

He wonders briefly what happened to it.

Peter turns his full attention back to where Ben is fixing the younger version of Peter with a piercing look.

“You’ve seemed off lately,” Ben comments, voice carefully non-accusing.

“I’m fine,” the younger Peter says automatically. “I’m good.”

“Yeah?” Ben asks. “Because you’ve been pretty antsy lately. You seem really distracted, and for some odd reason, I could have sworn I heard someone leave the house last night, but your aunt was right next to me. I’m not upset,” Ben adds quickly. “I just want you to tell me if there’s something going on, so I can help.”

Peter doesn’t even think he’s breathing anymore. There’s no place for air next to the grief and shame swirling in his chest. Because he knows how this played out years ago. He knows that, right after he was bitten, he was irritated and scared, and it took little to nothing for Peter to lash out. He had been defensive, then.

_ “Stop fucking breathing down my throat! And stop trying to act like you’re my dad or some shit.” _

But now he knows _.  _ He  _ knows  _ what happens next.  _ I can change this,  _ he thinks.

“I - I’m really sorry,” Peter watches himself say quietly, “It’s just been… hard. School and everything.”

And Ben, despite his often gruff police exterior, softens. “What’s going on? Why haven’t you talked to me or your aunt? You know we’re here for you.”

_ “You wouldn’t understand!”  _ Peter had snarled back then. This time, he says, “I didn’t want to bother you. It really isn’t anything. I’ve just felt kinda sick lately and it’s been hard to focus in class.”

Peter watches, unable to look away, as Ben reaches out and brushes younger Peter’s bangs out of his face and sighs.

“Peter,” Ben says seriously, looking the kid straight in the eye. “You’re not ‘bothering’ us. That’s what we’re here for. And for God’s sake, if you’re sick,  _ let us know.  _ How long have you been feeling bad?”

“I dunno,” Peter mumbles. “Almost a week?”

Peter watches as Ben just barely keeps himself from rolling his eyes. “Jesus, Pete. You’re not going to school tomorrow.”

“I can’t miss!” Peter whines. “And besides, you and May both have work.”

“Not anymore, I don’t,” Ben says firmly, already pulling out his phone. “New York City gets me every other day of the week. I think it’ll survive if I take one day off for my kid.”

Peter sees shocked reflected back on his own face. Ben rarely ever took off work, and even then, it was only for emergencies.

“O-Okay,” the younger him stutters. “I - thank you.”

Peter watches as Ben ruffles his hair affectionately. “Why don’t you go ahead and turn in for the night? And tomorrow, we can spend the day watching  _ Star Wars  _ until you feel better. Sound like a plan?”

Young Peter gives him a small smile and nods before rushing forward and wrapping his arms around Ben. “I love you,” he says, voice muffled in the man’s jacket.

Ben pats his back gently. “I love you, too, kiddo.” When he pulls away, he says, “Now go get some sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

The younger Peter nods again and murmurs a quick, “Goodnight,” before turning and making his way up the stairs, disappearing from sight. As the projection dissipates around him, taking Ben with it, Peter lets out a bitter laugh.

That’s not how the events of that night went.

And Ben certainly wasn’t there when he woke up.

* * *

Peter doesn’t know how long he spent crouched on the floor by the shelf in the back of the room before he hears the telltale sound of lab doors opening. He quickly jumps up and shoves the glasses and projector back into the box, which he hastily slides onto the shelf.

“Hey, kid,” Tony calls, walking into the lab. “Sorry for the holdup. You know how Pepper is. I see nothing’s been blown up, which is always a plus.” He stops and tilts his head. “What are you doing all the way back there? Lose a tool playing fetch with DUM-E?” he jokes.

It takes Peter a moment to find his voice, grief still clogging his throat. He clears his throat, trying to shake away the image of Ben standing in front of him, so healthy and  _ alive, _

“Uh, close enough,” Peter says, grabbing the cup and walking over to Tony. “He made another death smoothie and I, uh, thought it might be best to put it somewhere he can’t get to it and spill it.”

“Probably for the best.” Tony grimaces, taking the cup and removing Peter’s makeshift lid. “Jesus, DUM-E. You really outdid yourself this time, huh?” Tony says loudly, and DUM-E whirs proudly. “That wasn’t a compliment,” he adds, and Peter laughs.

The sound is jarring to his own ears, clunky and wrong after seeing his dead uncle. Tony must sense the shift in Peter’s mood, because he puts the cup aside and turns his full attention to Peter, narrowing his eyes.

“You okay?” he asks bluntly, and Peter wonders for a moment how he’s supposed to pull words through his teeth that aren’t,  _ Ben Ben Ben I want Ben.  _ He settles for a nod, but at Tony’s skeptical, he just shrugs.

“The smell of that death smoothie is enough to make anyone feel sick,” Peter jokes, hoping the man will just let it go.

For a moment, Tony doesn’t say anything, just studying Peter as he tries to keep himself from fidgeting nervously. Eventually, Tony seems to come to a decision, because he just nods and says, “Understandable. Think I should give him a lecture about mixing chemicals? This didn’t come up in the handbook for How to Parent Your Robot.”

Peter laughs at that, and this time, it’s a little more genuine.

“There’s a handbook for that?” Peter asks curiously, inwardly letting out a sigh of relief that Tony let the subject drop.

“In my head,” Tony tells him, and then he pauses. “You know, that’s an idea: write a book called How To Train Your Robot.”

“Isn’t that just programming?” Peter asks.

“I did  _ not  _ program DUM-E to be like…  _ that _ ,” Tony says with a grimace. “Anyway, I had this idea for your suit that I think we should toy around with this week. FRIDAY, pull up the schematics for the Lighting Fingers Protocol.”

Tony walks to the toolbox and absentmindedly tosses Peter a pair of wire cutters as he animatedly describes the program he wants to add to his suit. Just like that, they fall back into a rhythm.

And if Peter’s hands are shaking the whole time? Tony thankfully ignores it.

* * *

It’s nearly three in the morning when Peter gives up on sleeping in favor of flinging his cover of and creeping down the hall to the elevator. Once inside, Peter quickly asks, “FRIDAY, Mr. Stark is asleep, right?”

When the AI responds, it’s almost reluctant. “Tony retired for his and Miss Pott’s room about an hour ago and is asleep. Would you like me to get him?”

“No!” Peter nearly shouts, heart flying into his throat. That is definitely  _ not  _ what he wants right now. “No,” he repeats, a bit calmer now. “I just - the lab will still open for me, right?”

There’s a pause before FRIDAY answers. “Tony allows you access to all parts of his lab, with exception to closet number 4 and some of the more dangerous machines.”

Peter just barely manages to hold back an eye roll at her phrasing. “So that’s a yes?” he prompts.

“Affirmative.”

“Take me there, then. And don’t act all huffy. It’s not like I’m.... directly disobeying Mr. Stark,” Peter says defensively. But even as the words pass his lips, he feels a sharp pang of guilt. He  _ is  _ going behind Tony’s back, but Peter doesn’t want to risk the chance that Tony will say no if he asks to use it.

He won’t risk it. Not for Ben.

The elevator deposits him in front of the lab, and Peter wastes no time before rushing in and heading straight for the back. He’s practically lightheaded with anticipation as he snatches the box off the shelf and slides the glasses on.

He presses the button on the side, and the projection flickers to life once more.

“Hey, kiddo,” Ben greets once again. “Do you have a moment?”

And just like that time, Peter lets his memory change. Wishful thinking brought to life.

The other Peter nods, and Ben sits on the couch, fixing the other Peter with a calculating look. “You’ve seemed off lately,” he finally says, breaking the awkward silence.

And this time, better prepared, Peter knows exactly how he wants this to go.

“I’m sorry,” he says, fidgeting nervously with the edge of his sleeves. “I’m just… I haven’t been feeling well lately. I think maybe I just need more sleep. Or something.”

“What’s going on, buddy?” Ben asks, looking concerned.

Peter things of everything he’s been through recently. He thinks of the incident at Washington Monument, he thinks of the ferry, of needing to be better but knowing how, of watching a building crumble all around him and being trapped under the rubble, all alone.

He thinks of screaming for help and no one coming.

He opens his eyes and watches as the face of the younger version of himself crumples. “It’s just a lot,” the other him says, voice cracking.

Ben doesn’t waste any time before pulling him close and wrapping his arms tightly around him. Peter wishes he could feel it.

“What do you need?” Ben asks softly as the younger Peter cries into his shirt, arms hanging onto his uncle desperately.

_ This is how it should have been,  _ Peter thinks to himself.  _ If I’d just been honest, Ben would still be here. He’d still be alive. _

“Can you just… be here?” the younger Peter says in a small voice, and Ben nods, pulling him even closer.

“I’m right here, bud. I’ll always be right here.”

Peter’s not sure how long he stands there, watching his dead uncle envelope the younger Peter in his arms and desperately imagining that he can actually feel it, but it’s almost light out when the program stops.

All that’s left his Peter standing there alone, arms wrapped around himself.

* * *

Peter barely has the presence of mind to go back to his room before Tony can come down and find him standing in the lab, distraught. There’s a small part of him that wants to stay as far away from the BARF technology as possible, but another part of him wants to put on those glasses and redo that last conversation with Ben over and over so he never has to stop looking at his face.

Anything to soothe the grief that’s bleeding from him like a fresh wound now.

Peter lies in bed and looks up at the ceiling for a moment, letting a tide rise in his chest. Even though not a day goes by where he doesn’t think of Ben, rarely does the name sit so  _ heavy  _ on his tongue anymore.

Grief has been tacked onto Peter like an extra limb for as long as he can remember, and after the last twenty-four hours, it feels so much bigger and wider. It feels like something that drags behind him, weighing him down.

“FRIDAY, what time is it?” Peter asks eventually. He has no clue how long he’s spent laying there, thinking and thinking and thinking, not really there at all.

He can see through his window that it’s light outside now, but he’s still surprised when the AI responds with, “The time is now ten forty-six. Shall I alert Mr. Stark that you’re up?”

“Um, sure,” Peter says distractedly. There’s a small part of him that feels bad. He was so excited about staying with Tony for the week, but now all he wants to do is slide the glasses on his face and see Ben. He wants to see how his face crinkles when he smiles and how his eyes light up when he laughs, and feel how safe being around him is.

He knows he’s lucky enough to have a Tony. But… the selfish part of him wants a Ben, too.

He wonders if Tony has any meetings today, if maybe Peter will be able to see Ben even for a little bit. With that thought, Peter brightens a little and swings himself out of bed, quickly sliding one some jeans and a nerdy t-shirt.

Peter ducks into the bathroom to brush his teeth and winces at the circles under his eyes, hoping he doesn’t  _ look  _ like he stayed up all night immersed in a projection of fake memories with his dead uncle.

He sighs and tries to muster up some excitement for the day before heading to the elevator.

“Hello, Peter. Mr. Stark is waiting for you in the kitchen,” FRIDAY informs him, and Peter nods.

“Take me there, then,” Peter says.

As soon as the elevator doors open, the smell of bacon hits Peter square in the face, and he follows the smell to the kitchen, where Tony is holding a spatula and standing in front of a large skillet of eggs.

“Good morning, Mr. Stark,” Peter says, and Tony turns around and smiles.

“Hey, Pete! I made us breakfast,” Tony announces. He pauses for a moment and looks at the clock. “Well, more like lunch at this point. Couldn’t sleep?”

Peter takes a seat on a bar stool at the island and shrugs, avoiding Tony’s eyes. “Yeah, I just couldn’t seem to slow my brain down, I guess. You know how it is.”  


Tony gives him a piercing look before scooping a heap of eggs and bacon onto a plate and setting it in front of Peter.

“Unfortunately,” Tony admits. “But anything in particular on your mind you want to talk about? Maybe bounce off me?” he asks casually, plucking a piece of bacon from Peter’s plate.

“Honestly, not really,” Peter lies. “Not that I don’t want to talk to you. Just that there’s not really much to talk about. I think my brain is constantly on go go go mode in the lab, and it doesn’t want to stop when I go to bed.”

Tony fixes him with an unreadable look before saying, “I get that. Occupational hazard of being a genius. You’re always free to come get me if you just want some company. Even if it’s the middle of the night.”

Peter looks away, guilt building in his chest at how earnest Tony’s being. Ever since the Vulture fiasco, Tony’s been much more intentional about reaching out and trying to listen. And Peter appreciates that, but in this instance, he just wants Tony to look  _ away.  _ He doesn’t want the pity, and he certainly doesn’t want Tony to tell him to stop.

“Thank you,” Peter says quietly, and he means it.

And then he promptly changes the subject.

* * *

He gets through the day in a haze.

As he works alongside Tony throughout the day, he finds it hard to keep his gaze and thoughts away from the shelf in the far back of the room. He knows that it would take mere strides to be across the room, and just a touch of a button to see Ben again. To talk to him.

Peter knows Tony knows something is up, and he feels bad. But he doesn’t even know how to bring the subject up, much less admit to his fixation. Besides, he’d rather just keep it to himself. Keep  _ Ben  _ to himself.

But he does try. He tries to make jokes with Tony, even if some of them fall flat, and he talks about school and being a superhero and May, but in the back of his mind, all he can think about is seeing Ben again.

It’s the closest to alive he’ll ever see Ben again, and he’ll take it.

Night settles over the Tower slowly, and Peter tries not to seem too impatient and antsy. He’s elbow-deep in the leg of one of Tony’s suits, holding a flashlight while Tony tweaks with the wiring.

By the time Tony finishes, Peter doesn’t even have to fake a yawn.

“Tired, kid?” Tony asks, raising an eyebrow.

“A little bit,” Peter admits sheepishly. And, this time, it really isn’t a lie. He barely got any sleep last night, and the day passed by in a slow, hazy blur, with grief and longing and guilt and anxiety as a backdrop.

Tony studies him for a moment before throwing his tools aside and saying, “What do you say we break for the night? Rhodey’s coming over tomorrow, so we can all hit the gym for some training to take a little break from all the brainwork, yeah?”

Peter inwardly sighs with relief, feeling a spark of excitement at getting to see Tony’s friend again. Watching Tony and Rhodey interact is always funny, and listening to him talk about him and Tony’s MIT days never gets old.

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Peter says, trying not to sound too eager to leave. “I can’t wait to see Mr. Rhodes tomorrow!”

Tony gives him a wounded look. “Oh, I see how it is. Rhodey gets all the enthusiasm. Nothing for boring, ‘ole Tony Stark.”

“Boring and old is right,” Peter says with a smirk and ducks as Tony swats at him.

“Brat. Go to bed; it’s past your bedtime,” Tony snarks.

“And  _ way  _ past yours, old man,” Peter laughs. “Goodnight, Mr. Stark!”

“‘Night, kid. See you in the morning - and hopefully it’s actually the  _ morning  _ this time,” he teases, and Peter smiles sheepishly before heading out.

He gets up to his room and plops down on the bed, ending the day the same way he started it - staring at the ceiling.

And then he waits.

* * *

When the clock hits two in the morning, Peter sits up in his bed, wide awake, even as exhaustion tugs at his body.

“FRIDAY, is Mr. Stark asleep?” Peter asks as he gets into the elevator, just as he did last night.

“Yes, Peter,” the AI replies, and Peter doesn’t even hesitate before making his way down to the lab.

The doors open easily for him once again, and Peter makes a beeline to the back of the lab, not even bothering to turn on any lights as he goes. He reaches blindly for the box on the shelf, swiping his hands back and forth when all he’s met with is the dusty wood off the shelf.

“What the hell?” Peter mutters when he finds the shelf completely empty. He quickly finds a light switch and flips it on, frantically moving other boxes and miscellaneous supplies around, thinking that maybe it somehow fell and got buried.

“Where is it? Where  _ is  _ it?” Peter grits out, blood rushing through his veins. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if he can’t find it. He  _ needs  _ to see Ben again. Even if it’s just one more time.

(But that’s the problem, isn’t it? He’ll always want one more time.)

“Looking for something, Pete?”

Peter whirls around, heart flying into his throat as he comes face to face with Tony, who’s just leaning against the wall opposite of him, holding the now-familiar box. Peter’s eyes widen.

“I - I didn’t - Mr. Stark, I wasn’t trying - I’m so sorry, I just wanted -” Peter stutters out, too many emotions going through him at once to even begin to express just one. Embarrassment. Guilt. Panic. Panic. Panic.

Tony’s eyes widen with alarm, and he holds up a hand. “Whoa, kid, easy there. Easy,” Tony says gently, setting the box on a nearby table before slowly approaching Peter as if he’s a frightened animal. “It’s okay, you’re okay. I’m not mad,” Tony says calmly. “I mean, honesty really is - well, not necessarily the  _ best  _ policy in every case - but certainly the preferred one in this case.”

Peter looks from him to the box on the floor, confused and shocked and ashamed. “I didn’t - how did you - FRIDAY said -”

Tony gives him a wry smile and rocks back on his heels. “Yeah, FRIDAY lied, buddy. Which she can do if I’m the one telling her to do it. I don’t make a habit of it, trust me. But you’ve been off since the night you got here, and having a fairly omniscient AI is pretty helpful when it comes to seeing what’s going on around here.”

Peter brings a distressed hand up to his hair and tugs at his before scraping his hand across his face, suddenly wanting to be anywhere but here. He can’t look Tony in the eye.

Tony, who has been nothing but kind and generous. Tony, who gave him is suit, who gave him a real internship after the Vulture fiasco, who’s served as Peter’s mentor and support and who gives him a place to stay when May is away.

And all Peter’s done to repay him is take advantage of his hospitality by sneaking around behind his back at late hours of the night and lying to him.

“I’m sorry,” Peter says so quietly he’s not even sure Tony will hear him. “I just wanted to see Ben.”

There’s a moment of silence, and Peter tenses up, waiting for Tony to tell him that’s no excuse for sneaking around in his home and using his tech without asking. Instead, Tony says, “Peter, look at me. Please.”

And as much as Peter wishes the ground would just swallow him whole, he thinks he at least owes Tony this much, so he does. When he meets the man’s eyes, they are so, so full of compassion.

“I’m not going to fault you for wanting to see your uncle,” Tony says firmly, and Peter looks up at him with surprise. “I would  _ never  _ fault you for that. And God knows I’ve used this stupid piece of tech to relive my last moments with my parents, too. But Peter,” Tony says sadly, gently reaching out and tugging Peter to where the box is. “There’s a reason why these are in a box in the back of the room.”

Peter looks at the glasses case resting in the box. He thinks about Ben’s face and his voice and how he never wants to forget them. He looks at Tony with pleading eyes, already knowing where this is heading, but Tony continues anyway.

“These are nothing more than dreams, Peter. I’ve made myself go half-mad using these, and I don’t want to see the same thing happen to you,” Tony tells him.

Peter swallows thickly, a tsunami rising in his chest, and he lets out a shuddering breath, shaking with the effort of keeping it together. “I won’t,” he promises desperately.

“You will,” Tony says sadly. “Peter, I don’t think Ben would want you to spend your whole life chasing what would have been. You’re a  _ Harry Potter  _ nerd, right? I think Dumbledore said it best. ‘It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live.’”

At Tony’s words, the tsunami is Peter’s chest rises up into his throat and breaks, and he chokes on a harsh sob, his body jerking harshly with the force of it.

“But I don’t - I don’t want to forget  _ him, _ ” Peter chokes out, words barely recognizable as tears pour down his face. He gasps, breath being punched out of him before he can catch it again, and looks up at Tony desperately.

“T-Tony,” he whines, an ugly, high-pitched sound.

And Tony doesn’t even hesitate before stepping forward and wrapping the crying kids in his arms, holding him tight. Tony rocks them both gently, bringing a hand up to Peter’s head and running his fingers gently through his hair, murmuring a litany of nonsensical words.

After what feels like hours, Peter pulls away, swiping messily at his face. For awhile, neither of them say anything. But then Peter looks up at Tony with red, puffy eyes. “I’m sorry,” he croaks, half for getting into this mess in the first place and half for the subsequent breakdown.

“Don’t apologize, kid. You’re allowed to miss him,” Tony tells him.

“I wanted to change how it ended,” Peter confesses, like it’s a sin. Pain flashes across Tony’s face.

“I know, buddy. The best thing we can do is to just… learn from it and make all our beginnings and middles as nice as we can. And if we’re lucky, the endings won’t be so bad,” Tony says, thinking about his parents, about all the times he wished his relationship with them had been better. How maybe he could have gotten some sort of closure beyond a piece of tech.

Peter nods, wiping away the rest of his tears and sniffling. He tries to regain some composure and straightens up, looking at Tony.

“Thank you,” he says quietly, the small phrase not even beginning to describe the amount of gratitude he has for Tony.

Tony smiles warmly at him, ruffling his hair affectionately. “Anytime, kid,” he says earnestly. “Although, preferably not at, like, three in the morning, but I’ll make an exception,” he jokes, winking to make sure Peter knows he’s not serious.

Peter laughs. “It’s good for you,” he tries to joke back. “The earlier you go to sleep, the older I think you are. If anything, I’m doing you a favor. Keeping you on your toes.”

Tony rolls his eyes and slings an arm around Peter’s shoulders. “I think you do that enough already, Spider-Kid.”

“Spider- _ Man _ ,” Peter pouts.

“You still have a curfew, therefore you’re a kid,” Tony argues. They stop outside the elevator, and just before Peter steps on, Tony stops him with a serious look. “I want you to know that I’m destroying those glasses, so there’s no point in trying to find them again. They’re done more harm than good anyway.”

Peter knew this was coming, but he still can’t help the way his face falls. “I understand, Mr. Stark.”

Tony seems to hesitate for a moment before reaching out and pulling the kid in for one last hug. “I love you, kid,” he says quietly, and Peter’s eyes fill with tears again. Tony’s never said the actual words to him.

Peter fumbles with his words for a moment, not knowing if he’s supposed to say them back or not. But then he thinks about Ben, about words he should have said and never did, and about good endings.

He won’t make the same mistake again.

“I love you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Not my best writing ever, as I really struggled with Ben's voice and him and Peter's interactions, but I'm hoping it came out okay. I'm honestly rushing to get this posted, so I hope there aren't too many errors.
> 
> Hope you guys enjoyed! Comments and kudos are much appreciated. And, as always, you can find me on tumblr @tonystarkstan.


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